


Happy Valentine's Day

by Valentia



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Dean is Not Amused, Destiel - Freeform, M/M, Sam Ships It, Sam is a Little Shit, Season/Series 08, Sick Dean Winchester, Valentine's Day
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-03-19
Updated: 2015-03-19
Packaged: 2018-03-18 15:47:47
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,110
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3574994
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Valentia/pseuds/Valentia
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean is sick but he refuses to take any medicaments. Sam is tired of Dean's stubbornness and leaves the bunker, but then Castiel appears in order to help his friend. And all that wouldn't even be that terrible if it wasn't goddamn Valentine's Day and if Cas was at least sure about his own feelings.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Happy Valentine's Day

**Author's Note:**

  * A translation of [Happy Valentine's Day](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/106905) by Valentia. 



> Hello, guys! :)  
> This will be my last story for some time I guess, because I haven't done any other translations yet. But there will be some stories or at least one in a few weeks when we'll have holidays.  
> I couldn't resist writing a story about Cas and Dean on Valentine's Day this year. And yes Valentine's Day is long gone but I think it won't be the end of the world if I post the story now. So just enjoy it!  
> Leave some feedback or kudos if you have time, I'd appreciate it. :)

Dean hated Valentine's Day. He really hated it! But strictly speaking, only since this year. Very strictly speaking, only since this morning, waking up with a splitting headache and nausea that didn't get better the whole damn forenoon. He couldn't eat (what was like hell for a Dean Winchester) and his one glass of water (which Sam had already acknowledged with a questioning look, for since when did Dean drink water?) had almost come up to him again, whereupon he had spent half an hour above the toilet bowl, just to throw himself down on the sofa with cramps.

First, he had wanted to keep it from Sam. He had invented excuses why he didn't eat anything at breakfast and suddenly had to leave the room when he saw Sam bite into a sandwich with plenty of ham. After breakfast they were sitting at the big table in the bunker and Dean focused on the newspaper in front of him, but after a while the letters began to blur and his stomach came back on. In the end, he only pretended to be reading and instead tried to figure out what had made him sick. He came to the conclusion that it must have been the tuna sandwich in the diner in whose city they had successfully finished a case the previous day (vampires, a whole nest!).

“And? What are you doing today?” Sam suddenly asked, not looking up from his laptop.

“What do you mean?”

“Well...” Now Sam was grinning at him. “You know, Valentine's Day, a whole bunch of lonely women's hearts just waiting to be conquered by a certain Dean Winchester.”

Sam laughed and Dean smiled, but it didn't last long, for his stomach was just too pushy. And he hated God and the world for that he was sick just this damn day.

“I think this year I'm staying here.”

That made Sam suspicious. Really suspicious. Dean had never, really _never_ , spent Valentine's Day at home, and he never missed the opportunity at all, going home with a pretty woman when it was offered. Sam frowned, glancing at Dean. He looked pale, eye creams and a pained expression on his face and _there_ , his right hand was resting on his belly. Unobtrusively, but not unobtrusively enough.

“Are you okay, Dean?” Sam asked worried, turning off his laptop.

“Yes, yes, fine,” Dean said, trying not to throw up at that exact moment. “I simply don't feel like bars or discos or whatever. Is it a crime if a man wants one day off from everything?“

“No, no, Dean, I just mean, you look sick.”

Dean laughed amused, but that was not the best thing he could do in this situation, and he stiffened again.

“Well, thank you very much!”

Sam sighed.

“I'm serious. What's up?”

Sam sounded really worried and exactly that was the reason Dean wanted to hide that he was sick: If Sam became aware of it, he'd be like an overprotective mother, cooking him some tea and bringing hot-water bottles, and when it got really tough he'd tell some story from their youth, when Dean had rescued him once more from being beaten up at school, to make him feel better. Dean really appreciated all this, but it didn't help to repress how bad he was feeling. Because that was his way: simply repressing it. If he didn't think of it, it didn't exist.

“Dean, I see that something's wrong. That explains why you fled from my breakfast. Maybe you should go to the doctor or the pharmacy, get yourself some medicine,” Sam suggested, but Dean shook his head, suppressing the urge to vomit right now and right at the table.

Perhaps he couldn't hide it any longer that he was sick, but he wouldn't take any medication, not ever!

“No, Sammy, it's okay.”

“But Dean-”

“I said no! I've been through the damn apocalypse, a rotten tuna sandwich is nothing against that!“

And in the exact moment Dean thought about yesterday's oh-so-tasty tuna sandwich, he rushed to the bathroom and spent another full half hour there. When he came back, sweating and red-faced and shaking a little because of chills, that was too much for Sam.

“I'll go get you something and you can't stop me!” he said, grabbing the car keys from the table before Dean could reach them.

Dean just sighed, sitting down on the couch, exhausted. Sam put a blanket around him and Dean didn't even protest (which was a pretty bad sign, because he hated it abysmally to be mothered).

“It's alright, Sammy, I'm already feeling better.”

And that wasn't even a lie. But as they argued and the minutes passed, the nausea became worse until Dean plunged to the bathroom again, coming back even _more_ tired.

“I won't take any stupid pills or anything else!” Dean said emphatically, laying along the couch.

He hated medicine and he was manly enough to get through the day without it. He had been through worse, much worse. It soon turned out that lying in the horizontal definitely wasn't a good idea if you had nausea, and so he quickly sat up again before he'd have to dive into the bathroom once again. The only good thing was that the headache had subsided.

“Fine,” Sam said, being really annoyed by Dean's stubbornness and his eternal thirst to prove himself and others how tough he was. “But I won't watch this any longer.”

With that Sam grabbed his jacket from the chair, ready to go, but Dean stopped him.

“Don't you dare go to the pharmacy now and get me any of this stuff you'll secretly mix into my drink!”

“Dean, what exactly is so wrong about-?!”

Sam sighed and paused. Arguing was worthless, Dean would never give in. Sam had really thought about buying him a juice against nausea and mixing it into something, even if it had to be a damn beer, but in the end he left Dean in the bunker, grumbling to himself.

“Where are you going?” Dean called after him.

“Someone has to take care of the poor women,” he replied, and then Dean heard the door of the bunker slamming.

 _At least Sammy has a great day_ , Dean thought, sinking back into the pillows. A few hours passed and it had become afternoon (lunch had of course unfortunately been canceled) and Dean had paid the bathroom a few more visits, until he suddenly heard a far too familiar wing noise behind the couch. Reflexively Dean turned off the TV (Cas really didn't need to see the CasaErotica channel) and turned around so that he could see his angel.

“Hello, Dean,” Castiel said, stiffly and with his usual monotone voice.

“Hey, Cas,” Dean greeted him, throwing the blanket aside in which he had just been wrapped.

He stood up (unfortunately too fast, so that a new wave of nausea washed over him) and put the cup of tea that he had made for himself ( _not a word to Sam_ , Dean thought) back on the counter in the kitchen. Probably it wasn't the best moment for Cas to appear, for he surely needed help at a case, but Dean didn't want to reject him too hard. Maybe it was some cupid causing mischief, which wasn't even that unlikely on February 14th, but Dean would have to refuse.

“What is it, Cas?” he asked, coming to a stop right in front of Cas.

“You're sick,” he simply stated, scrutinizing Dean from top to bottom.

“Oh wow, do you have a radar for that or something? The _Dean Winchester is sick and I have to provide moral support_ radar or what?”

Dean raised his eyebrows. He really didn't want to sound mean, but this whole mothering thing was annoying him. Wasn't he allowed to wallow in self-pity for only one day? Castiel shook his head very slightly.

“No, Dean, I have not. Sam told me that you're sick and that I should see what I can do for you.”

Dean snorted.

“Come on, Sammy, really?! You're fucking serious?!” Dean shouted into the room as if Sam was standing behind one of the pillars and could hear him.

“Sam isn't here, Dean.”

“Yes, I see that, Cas. Thank You!”

“You're welcome.”

Dean sighed again. He was still sick and it steadily got worse and it was just a _damn crappy_ day! Then another wave of nausea rolled over him and without another word to Cas he sprinted to the bathroom just in time before he would have had to mop the floor. Castiel followed him slowly, staying in the doorway of the bathroom are. He watched him all the time and that made Dean really uncomfortable, but he didn't say anything. To throw up was just another bizarre human thing and Castiel surely didn't care. It was just something normal like taking a shower or eating or having sex. When the gag reflex had stopped, he pressed the toilet flushing and leaned against the wall, even more exhausted.

“You're really not feeling well,” Cas noticed again and Dean rolled his eyes.

“Thank you, Captain Obvious,” Dean said, pushing Cas aside to go to the kitchen.

He rinsed his mouth with water, suddenly getting dizzy and bracing himself on the counter. He was shaking. He was sure that his arms and legs had to give way at any moment. It had hit him really _really_ bad. _I will never ever eat tuna sandwiches in my life again_ , he vowed. When he truly was on the verge of giving way and black spots danced in front of his eyes, Cas was suddenly right behind him and kept him on his feet, more bad than good. He wrapped his arms around Dean's chest and slowly maneuvered him towards the couch, on which Dean let himself sink, moaning. And, how nice, the headache was back! _Oh, screw it_ , Dean thought as he noticed the nausea returning.

“Come on, Cas, just put two fingers on my forehead and heal me. You're here for that, right?”

Castiel was standing in front of Dean, so that his trench coat touched Dean's jeans, staring down at him without blinking.

“I'm here because I want to help you. If that's the best thing I can do, I will.”

Dean nodded, moaning, because suddenly the headache had become way more intense.

“Come on, Cas.”

Cas raised his hand and gently placed it on Dean's sweaty forehead. Dean felt the heat coming from Cas' body, then he closed his eyes, and when he opened them again, he felt like he was reborn.

“Thanks, man,” he said relieved, falling back against the back of the couch.

You really didn't know how great it was to be healthy, if you hadn't been truly sick before.

“With pleasure, Dean. I'm glad you're doing better now.“

Then they were silent for a while. Dean simply enjoyed the feeling of not having headaches or nausea and just feeling great, and Cas waited quietly until Dean turned back to him. Dean's gaze wandered to the clock. It was late afternoon, therefore he still had enough time to try his luck with one or another woman.

But then he saw Cas standing right in front of him, just watching him, scrutinizing each of his emotions, his head slightly tilted, and suddenly the idea of spending the evening with Cas didn't seem to be that bad.

“I don't know about you, but I'm getting my beer and something to eat now.”

Cas stepped aside so Dean could get up, his eyes following him into the kitchen.

“I don't eat.”

“I know. But maybe you wanna try something.”

“No, thanks,” Cas said, sitting down at the big table.

“Alright,” Dean replied, grinning. “More for me.”

He came back with two bottles of beer (only out of courtesy he put one in front of Cas, even though he knew it would end up as his bottle) and a plate full of sandwiches. Ham, cheese, jam, everything. He probably would have taken more time to roast some meat for a nice cheeseburger if he hadn't been so damn hungry. He hadn't eaten in almost twenty-four hours! Dean devoured the sandwiches within a few minutes and he almost forgot about Castiel, for the angel was silently sitting across from him, sometimes looking at the plate, then at Dean, then at the wall behind him. As Dean had finished he pushed the plate away satisfied, drinking the rest of the first bottle of beer and already taking the second one. Cas didn't protest.

“And now?” Cas asked and Dean put the bottle back on the table with a loud bang.

“No idea,” he said, shrugging his shoulders.

Once more there was silence, then he suddenly had to laugh, and Cas tilted his head again, for he wanted to know what Dean was thinking about.

“What's so funny?”

“No offense, Cas, but usually everyone I talk to on Valentine's Day except for Sam gets laid.”

Cas frowned and really seemed embarrassed in some way.

“Dean, you don't want to...?”

“God, no!!!” Dean yelled immediately, shaking his head vigorously. “Not ever, Cas, don't worry, I didn't mean it like that."

“Oh.”

And if Cas may had shown just a tiny bit more emotion, Dean could possibly had made out whether it was really disappointment he heard in Cas' voice, or whether his sick brain had just imagined it. _I'm probably not fully recovered yet_ , he told himself and then repressed the thought. They remained silent again and Dean took the plate back to the kitchen. When he was back in the living room, Cas, kind of lost, gazed at the newspaper which still lay in the middle of the table. Suddenly Dean didn't know what he could do with his angel, and before the silence turned awkward, he raised his voice.

“Cas, maybe it's better, if you leave now.”

Cas looked up from the newspaper, staring at Dean who couldn't hide all of his bad conscience. He didn't want Cas to feel bad, but he had no idea what the two of them could do together except for remaining silent and staring at each other. Usually Cas was with Dean for a reason, but now after Dean had been healed there was no reason and suddenly Dean felt helpless.

“Do you want me to leave?” Cas asked and Dean thought once more that he had heard this spark of disappointment.

It didn't make his guilty conscience any better.

“Listen, I don't wanna offend you, but I still have something to do.”

Dean prayed that Cas wouldn't ask what this _something_ was.

“Today is Valentine's Day and you spend it with people you love, don't you?”

Dean could have explained the concept of February 14th to Cas now and that, for some people at least, it wasn't only about love, but also about getting an opportunity for one or more one night stands, but he didn't have the leisure for that, so he just answered: “Yeah, usually. Why?”

“If you want me to go: Don't you love me?”

This question had almost thrown Dean off course, _almost_. And for a brief moment the thought crept into his mind that Cas could not have meant it on the friendship level, but this moment was over very quickly. How else could Cas have meant it? He had no business with feelings and especially not with love. He loved his family, but this was also innate to humans. Angels would never fall in love with someone and _Cas_ would definitely not fall in love with _Dean_ , and _why the hell did this cause an uncomfortable feeling in his chest now?_

“I-I do, Cas. I mean, uh, really, uh, I also love Sam, so...”

Why the hell was he stuttering?!

“So you love me like you love Sam?” Cas persisted, getting up from his chair to, more or less, be at a level with Dean.

“No, not like Sam. Not quite. Sam's my brother, you're my friend. There's a difference.”

“And what about Lisa? How did you love her? I've never seen you kiss Sam and you've never kissed me either, so you loved her differently, am I right?”

Cas tilted his head again. And Dean was involuntarily reminded of Becky who had been writing stories about Sam and him that absolutely _did not correspond to the truth._ And kissing Cas? That was... That wasn't an issue. Also, if - and that was a _very very very big if_ \- he somehow began to think about kissing Cas, Cas would surely not tolerate it.

“Lisa was attractive in my eyes, that's a difference.”

“So Sam and I are not attractive in your eyes?”

It was such a simple question and the answer was actually as clear as it could be, but Dean still paused, thinking about it for a moment. Sam simply was his brother and Dean had no idea whether he was good-looking or not (but presumably he was in the eyes of women), but Cas... Dean had never thought about whether _he_ was attractive or not, but now, as he was standing there in front of him, stiffened, with these piercing blue eyes, his lips slightly parted, the windswept hair and that damn trench coat, Dean had to admit that Cas _really_ was slightly attractive. Maybe even a bit more than slightly.

“No,” Dean said after all, hoping that Cas didn't read his mind.

“I see,” Cas said, nodding. “I'm sorry if I bothered you.”

“Come on, dude, you didn't bother me, don't make such a sad face.”

Dean grinned, for Cas really didn't look at him any different than usual and it was meant as a joke, but Cas didn't get it and remained silent. Suddenly Dean had an incredibly bad conscience. Had he just implied that Cas was ugly? Had he told him to his face that he had chosen an ugly vessel? Had he might hurt his minimal amount of feelings?

“I'm sorry.”

“For what?”

“You're not ugly. If anything, the opposite. I mean, your vessel. I didn't mean to offend you or something.”

A tiny smile appeared on Cas' face as he stared at his shoes.

“Thank you, Dean, it's nice that you care about my feelings, but don't worry, I didn't take it as an insult.”

 _As what else then?_ , it flashed across Dean's mind, but he didn't ask out loud. Once more he examined Castiel from top to bottom and he had to admit that Cas was truly looking good, well, as good as Dean could tell. It frightened him that he thought that way and he wondered if cupid had shot him with one of his damn arrows to make Dean have these crazy thoughts about his best and only friend.

“No, Dean, if cupid was here I would know.“

Dean stopped breathing. _Fuck_ , he thought, _he knows everything. He knows damn well that I think he's attractive!_ And then a second later: _No, no, no, stop thinking about it!_ At the same moment he wondered if Cas was even interested in it at all. If he wasn't capable of developing feelings for Dean, Dean wouldn't have to worry that Cas conceived it wrong, right? And besides, it was quite normal that he thought of such things right now. It was Valentine's Day and his body was set to be lying next to a very attractive woman in bed or alternatively on the couch, and because that wasn't the case, his mind still needed time to deal with this unusual situation. Right? Right.

“Dean, I can develop feelings.“

“What?“

“Well, not quite like humans, but like we angels can. It's rather a kind of connection we have with a human that shows us that we have feelings for this person.“

Dean's mind cast back to the moment they had been at this motel, in a town whose name Dean had forgotten, while people had died because of the Egyptian plagues caused by the Staff of Moses. After Cas had finally appeared again for a very long time, he had told Sam and Dean that they shared a _more profound bond_. That had been more than two years ago. Was Cas talking about _that_?

“You're right, Dean.“

“God, Cas, stop reading my mind!”

 _Before I think of something you definitely don't need to know, like ever._ But Dean didn't say that.

“So,” Dean finally began, running his fingers through his hair. “You really have feelings for me? Angel feelings? Somehow?”

“Yes, Dean.”

“Wow.”

Dean had really not expected that. He didn't quite know how to handle it, especially since he didn't quite know what he should think of it. Were these angel feelings as pronounced as in humans or differently? Was Cas even capable of feeling, well, sexual interest, or was it just familial love?

“I don't know.”

Dean sighed. _Stay out of my head!_

“What do you mean you don't know?”

Dean raised his eyebrows, crossing his arms in front of his chest.

“I've never tried it as an angel. Being physically close to someone. Well, closer than people are who have no sexual interest in each other.”

“D-do you want to try it or what do you want to tell me with that?”

Dean told himself that he definitely didn't want Cas to kiss him, but he didn't get the image out of his mind and, damn, it wasn't even that bad! Dean hadn't been with a woman for a very long time now and it was Valentine's Day after all... _No, no, no, stop. This is Cas, not a woman! Besides, you'd only take advantage of him!_

“I'd really like to try it, Dean.”

Dean swallowed.

“Then... you can try your luck with all the ladies out there. Your trench coat surely is a winner.”

Dean grinned, pointing at Cas' outfit. Castiel gazed down at himself, then looked back at Dean. Dean didn't want to admit that he'd indeed be disappointed if Castiel disappeared now, heading off to some random woman. He probably would be more than disappointed, he would even be a tiny little bit _jealous_ of the woman who would be allowed to kiss Cas or do whatever else he'd want. Castiel was _Dean's_ friend and _Dean's_ angel and no one had the right to take him away from him!

“To be honest, I'd like to try it with you,” Castiel said and Dean was relieved and also shocked, just because it relieved him. “Of course only if you don't mind.”

Dean didn't really know what to say. Did he want to kiss Cas? To his shame, the answer was yes. Hell, he even wanted to kiss Cas _desperately_! And Sam wouldn't need to know anything about it. And it would only be a one-time thing. And they would forget it afterwards. Dean was only helping Cas to learn a little bit more about himself, if he was able to feel... more, referring to that special love thing. That was a good thing, right? He did it for Cas, not for himself. It would never happen again.

“Well, fair enough. But you don't tell Sam a single word, not even give a tiny hint, and it's just a one-time thing.”

Cas nodded.

“Alright.”

Then he came closer to Dean and Dean took two steps towards Cas and suddenly they were so close that Dean almost wanted to remind Cas of his personal space again, but he remained silent. Instead, his eyes flitted back and forth between Cas' eyes and his lips and Dean didn't quite know how to go on now.

“I will kiss you now,” Castiel said and Dean nodded.

He felt Cas' warm breath on his face and his piercing gaze and then Cas' lips already lay on his and Dean closed his eyes. They hardly touched, Cas' trench coat was only stroking his body, but it felt amazing and new and exciting and _anything but wrong_. Dean moved his lips against Cas' and Cas came to meet him as much as possible. _It must be Cas' first kiss_ , it flashed across Dean's mind and somehow it filled him with a comforting feeling, being the one to give Cas his first real kiss. When they parted, Dean noticed a happy tingling in his heart. His lips seemed to burn and Cas was still so damn close!

“So?” he finally asked, but didn't step back. “Do you feel anything?”

“I think so,” Cas said, his gaze resting on Dean's lips. “But I'm not sure yet. May I kiss you again?” 

“Of course.”

Cas didn't hesitate and kissed him again. At Dean's surprise he suddenly felt two arms wrapped around him and he laid one hand on Castiel's neck and the other one on his back. And, wow, it just felt really good! Dean had never guessed that he would ever kiss Cas and even less that it would please him, but it did! It's been Valentine's Day and maybe cupid had a finger in the pie after all. But even if not and Dean and Cas had gotten everything on the line without his help, that was okay as well. More than okay. Fantastic!

After a while of gentle movements Dean's tongue slightly nudged against Cas' lips and Cas understood what Dean wanted him to do. He pulled him closer with his arms, a small sigh leaving his lips. Now Castiel was one hundred percent sure that he was able to feel emotions of a sexual nature for humans, especially for Dean, but he didn't want the kiss to end, even though he had the answer to his question now. For some seconds Dean broke away from Cas to catch some air and Cas was already a little disappointed, but then Dean pulled him close again, kissing him once more, and maybe right at that moment Castiel had found his heaven on earth, as people were always saying.

“Dean,” Cas sighed as they had parted again, and Dean stared at Cas' swollen lips, noticing the bright blue eyes and the slight blush that had settled on his face.

He also noticed the tingling that had become more and more powerful and the desire to kiss Cas again and again, not stopping until Sam came back what probably wouldn't even happen until next morning.

“Cas...”

“Dean, I'm sure now that I can develop feelings of a sexual nature. Especially for you.”

And the way Cas said this, with such sincerity and innocence in his voice, Dean just _had_ to kiss him again. Cas was pleased and came to meet Dean, his hands somehow becoming independent and lying on Dean's back. Then his hands went up to his neck, then downwards (as far as he didn't consider it inappropriate), then to the sides. Dean sighed into the kiss, pulling Cas as close to his body as he could. And suddenly Cas' body seemed to fit so perfectly to his and his hair was so much softer than Dean had thought and he could kiss so damn well for a beginner and his hands felt so hot on Dean's body. After a while they broke apart again, this time completely, and Dean immediately regretted the distance.

“I'm glad that I could help,” he said smiling and Cas had to grin.

The whole situation was just too bizarre. But Dean had absolutely no problem with that. _He had no problem with the fact that right now he'd like nothing better than to kiss Castiel to the floor and pull his damn trench coat and the suit off his body._ But suddenly Dean was afraid that this would really remain a one-time thing. That it had only been for scientific reasons and that Cas was nothing but purely interested in Dean and that this could never be equated with his own feelings that had spread inside of him all of a sudden.

“I think it's more than that,” Cas said, staring at Dean with such an honest look that Dean even forgot to complain about Cas for reading his mind again. “But I need time, Dean.”

Dean just nodded, running his fingers through his hair again.

“I'll come back when I'm sure.”

And with that Cas suddenly disappeared. Dean mumbled a _“nice farewell”_ just before he plopped down on the couch and turned on the TV. A little distraction would do him truly good now, even though he didn't get the look of Cas out of his mind shortly after they had kissed. When Sam showed up the next morning, he just said _“And? Could Cas help?”_ and then disappeared to his room, a grin on his face. Dean was sure that Sam still kept something from him on that score. A few days later Cas appeared again, right as Dean wanted to go to bed, and he almost kissed him to death. But Dean had no problem with that either. He also had absolutely no problem with the fact that Cas locked the door, made sure that no sound got out of the room and then pushed him down on his bed.

It was like that for a while. Cas surprised Dean at various times, but from the beginning it had been clear that they wouldn't be able to hide it (Dean didn't want to call their relationship an affair, although it somehow was one) from Sam for eternity, so one day Sam caught them kissing in the kitchen right after he'd come back from shopping. He moaned as he saw them, quite relieved.

“Finally! And I've been already thinking that serving you the rotton meat for dinner hadn't done any good!”

Sam couldn't hole up in his room quickly enough before Dean had fixed him with an angry look, pelting him indiscriminately with various kitchen utensils.

“Dean, what's the matter? Everything's perfect now. It's been Valentine's Day, man!”

He laughed, covering his hands with his face, for Dean was really good at aiming. Cas was simply standing beside them, watching quietly.

“Oh, and then you just thought about playing cupid and put Cas onto me?!”

“I also told him that he should come up with this love thing. Happy Valentine's Day, Dean!”

“Son of a bitch!” Dean shouted, running after him, but Sam had used the moment and had already disappeared to his room.

Dean went back to Cas, growling.

“Is everything all right?” Cas asked and seemed genuinely concerned. “Have I done something wrong back then? I'm sorry if I-”

Dean snorted.

“Oh, just kiss me before I'll go completely crazy here!”

Cas obliged willingly. And suddenly Valentine's Day wasn't _that_ bad anymore.


End file.
